“Now, if you’ll just sign here, ma’am, your current marriage will be dissolved, and you can get on with marrying this gentleman.” A round man with a smiling face and cheeks as red as holly berries held out a pen to Hannah. His gaze caught Rafe’s as he looked at Hannah. “Good evening, gentlemen. Come to see this happy couple be married?”
Every person in the room turned to look at Rafe and Jackson. Jackson continued chewing on the bread, unfazed. Rafe fought tokeep a disinterested expression even as Hannah’s eyes widened and her mouth shaped into a little “o.”
“Man out front said folks were getting hitched in here,” Jackson said around a mouthful of bread. “Figured we’d join the party. Provided it’s all right with the young miss.” He nodded at Hannah.
“We don’t need an audience,” the man Rafe presumed was Donahue said. He was a squirrely looking fellow, with an impatient expression and a fine suit.
“Please, Jack,” Hannah said, looking up at him. “Let them stay. What can it hurt?”
Donahue cast a disgusted glance back at the two of them. “Fine. We’ll have a real ceremony and a big party back in New York. This is only a formality. Get on with signing.”
Hannah’s face pinched in worry as she gripped the pen. It wasn’t hard to guess that Donahue had paid some attorney to draft up papers annulling her marriage to Rafe. She dipped it into the ink and paused. That snake Donahue had his hand wrapped tightly around her other arm, clearly afraid to let her go.
She paused with the pen over the document. “This is wrong, Mr. Brown. You’ve spelled our last name incorrectly.”
Donahue’s hand tightened on her arm in response, likely in response to “our last name.” Rafe clenched his fists at his side.
Mr. Brown leaned over the pages on the table. “I see. Well, that’s easily remedied. You may sign, and I’ll ensure it’s fixed later.” He tapped the page and smiled again.
Rafe looked at Jackson. He was past ready to step in. The other man shook his head ever so slightly.
Rafe ground his teeth. He was losing the ability to look uninterested.
“Where’s the supper?” a voice came from the hall.
Vale murmured something in response.
“You think I care about that? We’re hungry.” The voice sounded angrier, and another one joined in.
“Go on and sign so we can get this done,” Donahue said, casting an irritated look toward the door. He shoved Hannah forward. She stumbled and caught herself on the table—and that was all Rafe could take.
“It looks like the lady doesn’t want to sign your paper.” He moved forward, eyes fixed on Donahue.
Donahue pointed a finger in his direction. “This doesn’t involve you. Watch quietly or get out.”
The commotion beyond the door grew, a roar behind the furor building in Rafe’s veins. Hannah stared at him, her arm still trapped in Donahue’s grip.
“I’m involved.” Rafe tacked on a few choice descriptive words to let Donahue know exactly what he thought of him.
The man tilted his head. “Who are you?”
Rafe opened his mouth to answer, but at that moment, a crowd of people rushed through the door.
Chapter Twenty
Everythinghappenedsofast.One moment, Mr. Donahue held Hannah’s arm so tightly she was afraid it would be bruised as he sneered at Rafe. And the next, a mass of people had shoved through the door, and one particularly angry man had grabbed hold of Mr. Donahue.
Mr. Donahue dropped Hannah’s arm to push off the man who was trying to drag him from the room. She moved back toward the table with Mr. Brown, who was dabbing at his perspiring face with a handkerchief.
“Get out!” the man yelled in Mr. Donahue’s face. “We’re tired of waiting for our supper.” He tried to propel Mr. Donahue from the room, but his hand slipped and he stumbled backward instead.
Rafe took that moment to move forward. His fist connected with Mr. Donahue’s face. Hannah threw her hands over her mouth and stepped to the side as Mr. Donahue fell. Rafe stood over the man, almost as if he was daring him to get up.
“Stand back!” Jackson’s voice echoed above the crowd. He held up a tin star and pulled the pistol from his hip. “Anyone moving forward spends the night in a cell.”
It worked. Men cast furious glances at him, but none of them tried to toss anyone else out.
“This is a misunderstanding,” Mr. Donahue said, trying to lift himself up onto his elbows. Blood trickled from his nose.
